


We'll Always Have Orlando

by bitter_crimson (Krim)



Series: Florida Vacation Kidfic AU [2]
Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Alternate Universe, Crack, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-08-14
Updated: 2008-08-14
Packaged: 2018-10-17 10:55:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,738
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10592544
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Krim/pseuds/bitter_crimson
Summary: or, How John Sheppard came to love Ferris Wheels more than roller coasters





	

_**ATTRACTIONS & RIDES AT OLD TOWN!** _

_Old Town Shopping, Dining, & Entertainment Attraction in Kissimmee, Florida_

_Old Town has amusement rides that the whole family will enjoy! You'll be "blown away" by the **Windstorm Roller Coaster**....1437 feet of steel tracks which twist and turn over 80-degree banks! Ride the colorful  & exciting **Wave Swinger**! See Orlando from sixty feet in the air on the **Century Ferris Wheel**..._

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"Ugh," says Rodney, reaching out to steady himself against the neon green metal railing. "Can we take a break from the roller coaster?"

"What?" John demands, bouncing on the balls of his feet. "C'mon, Rodney, it's barely even a coaster at all -- we _have_ to go on it at least five times."

Rodney groans and clutches his gut. "You go by yourself, then. My stomach can't take it any more."

John frowns and leans back, taking in the other teen's slightly green pallor, then says, "Okay, okay. We can stop." He nudges Rodney's side gently with his elbow. "Wanna walk down toward the other end of the park and see if there's anything good there?"

Letting out a relieved breath, Rodney pushes off from the railing. "Yeah, okay, sounds like a plan. Sorry."

"Don't worry about it." John grins as the two start walking, inadvertently falling into step. Stale bits of popcorn crunch under their feet on the brick paving.

They pass dozens of brightly-colored, seemingly unrelated shops, adorned with awnings and ornate hand-painted signs. Right next to the tattoo parlor is a card shop, and a little farther down is a cat-themed gift shop. John is amused; he wishes his parents were the type to come this kind of random attraction. As it stands, though, he's just happy they permitted him to come here, spending the day with Rodney's family.

The two teens, both on vacation with their families in Orlando, met the previous day, competing together on some Nickelodeon Studios game show, Legends of the Hidden Temple. John felt a surprising immediate bond with the other boy, and Rodney seemed to feel the same way, for after they'd competed brilliantly and won the top prize on the game show, Rodney and John exchanged phone numbers and promised to try to hang out the following day. It wasn't that hard for John to convince his parents to let him go off with Rodney's family – after briefly meeting Mr. and Mrs. McKay, John's parents were happy to ship him off with them.

And now, since Rodney's parents and sister are currently off doing their own thing, the boys are allowed to wander around at their leisure. And when John learned this place had a roller coaster, he knew _exactly_ where _he_ wanted to be.

Unfortunately, Rodney's stomach doesn't seem to agree with John, but that's okay. There are other things they can do. Such as...

"Hey," John nudges Rodney suddenly, spotting something interesting. "Got a dollar?"

"What?" Rodney glances around, spots where John is looking and crosses his arms. "Oh, no no no. I'm not wasting perfectly good money on some stupid carnival game in an attempt to win a stuffed toy. Are you kidding me?"

"Aw, c'mon. Bet I can beat ya."

Rodney rolls his eyes. "I'm sure you could, too, if they didn't stack the odds on all these midway things."

"What?" In challenge, John raises an eyebrow and taunts, "You just don't want to play me because _you're a sore loser_."

"I don't see the point in playing a game that requires absolutely no intelligence," Rodney sniffs haughtily.

"You liked competing on the show yesterday!"

"Well, yes," Rodney flushes, "but, ah, that's completely different. Winning on Legends of the Hidden Temple required expert knowledge of the competition mechanisms, which I had gained from repeated study of the show. And besides, I don't need a giant stuffed panda bear."

John can't quite explain _why_ he feels the need to be impressive right now, but he does, and Rodney's not making it very easy for him. "Ahh, but a _whale_ \--" He thrusts his arm out, pointing at the booth two over from them.

"Well." Rodney pauses a moment more and then gives in, a smile playing at his lips. "Okay, I guess I could use a whale a _little_ bit more than a panda bear."

John grins and fishes around in his pocket while walking toward the game tent. "Of course you could. I mean, whales versus bears, it's no contest, right?"

"They certainly have size on their side," Rodney concedes, then glances at the contest of skill at hand and frowns. "Uh, right, because _that_ makes sense."

"Huh?" John says, before turning his head and looking for himself. He quickly realizes what Rodney means -- the booth is set up like an "Old West" saloon, signs and wanted posters tacked up on the wall with little black and white pressure targets everywhere, and air guns set up near the front, with padded stools in front of each one. The booth worker is wearing a cowboy hat and a vest, and the unified theme would be perfect were it not for the large quantities of stuffed animal sea life hanging from the rafters: whales, dolphins, sea horses, and one giant fluffy sea star. John blinks.

"Um, excuse me," Rodney demands of the carnival worker, "what moron decided that 'Fieval Goes West' and 'The Little Mermaid' were a perfect match?"

The brown-haired, ponytailed, bespectacled man running the booth scowls and jabs a finger at the lowest level of stuffed prizes. "We've got sea horses. Cowboys ride horses."

"You had that answer _pre-thought-out!_ " Rodney crows in something like triumph, then leans forward and presses his case: "How many times do you get asked that question a day?"

The man's eyes flash dangerously and John momentarily considers putting himself between the guns and Rodney, before remembering that they're plastic and also, Rodney's not a bar maid in distress. Or a mermaid, as the aquatic-life case may be.

"Here," says John, laying a dollar on the counter before the man responds to Rodney's question. "Just tell me how this thing works."

Still scowling, the man scoops up the money and deposits it into his bright red apron. "You pick up the air gun. I count down from ten and say go. A timer starts. You shoot as many targets as you can before time runs out. Your total score is displayed on the screen next to the timer."

John points at the giant sea star. "How many do I need to shoot to win that one?"

"Can't with just one dollar," the booth attendant says, smiling coldly. "For the biggest prizes you have to trade up from smaller sizes."

"Well, _fine_." John smiles coldly right back. "So what _can_ I win?"

"Whale's the biggest one." The guy gestures at the row of large stuffed whales and dolphins. "For one of those you have to hit 40 of the targets."

"All right," John says as he sits down in front of one of the guns. He cranes his neck around to look at Rodney. "You playing?"

Rodney settles onto the stool next to John, throwing his elbows up on the counter and resting his chin in his hands. "Nah, I think I'll just watch the carnage. But you go on ahead and show those targets who's boss."

And John does -- arms steady, finger tight on the trigger of the cheap plastic gun. Little bursts of air hit each of the targets as he methodically moves through them, and sure enough, when the timer buzzes, John's score shows 47.

“Congratulations, great job,” says the booth guy in a monotone, obviously disgruntled that John has managed to win. He crosses his arms over his chest, making him look a little ridiculous in his current getup. “Which of the prizes would you like?”

John glances at Rodney, who raises an eyebrow at him. “What?” Rodney asks, lifting his head from its cradle in his hands, “Why are you looking at me?”

“Er... Which one do you like best?” John asks, knowing the tips of his ears are probably pink.

Sitting up a little straighter, Rodney blushes as well and moves his elbows awkwardly from the counter to the sides of his torso and back again, as if unsure what to do with them. “Oh,” he says, turning to look at the shelf of stuffed toys, “well, um.”

The booth attendant scowls almost audibly at both of them. “Look, just pick one, okay, kid?”

Rodney returns the scowl tenfold. “Hey, we’re paying customers! Don’t your employers require you to be _polite_ to us?”

“Maybe we should go find some of them,” John agrees, leaning back and smirking.

The man’s lips press together in a narrow line, but he doesn’t say anything, and John has to fight a little bit to keep from snickering and high-fiving Rodney again, like he did so many times on the show the day before. Looks like they still make a good team.

“I’ll take that one,” Rodney finally decides, pointing to a large blueish-grayish stuffed whale in the middle. The booth worker pulls it down for him and hands it over the counter without another word or glower.

John considers needling him one last time, mostly for Rodney’s benefit, but instead opts for bumping into the other boy with his shoulder. “Do you like it?”

Snorting, Rodney tucks the whale under the arm that’s not next to John as they amble out of the booth, back in the direction of their prior course. Still, John’s pretty sure he sees the hint of a smile playing on Rodney’s face, which maybe makes him puff his chest out just a _little_ bit.

They walk for a while, drifting in and out of various shops along the way. There's a magic shop, and Rodney pulls John into the electronics boutique. After a fair amount of wheedling, John convinces Rodney to sit still long enough to get their caricature drawn, then frowns when he sees the final product and notices the size of his hair in the drawing.

"Well," Rodney wheezes out between bursts of laughter, clutching his stomach with one hand and the stuffed whale with the other, "they certainly got that part right! Also, your ears look like an elf's."

"Yeah? Well..." John pouts and tries to think of a good counter-insult. "Your chin looks square!" It doesn't really work.

Eventually Rodney calms down and even looks a little contrite. "Hey, you know I don't--"

"Whatever, McKay," John strides ahead and smirks when he knows the other boy can't see it.

"I was just kidding!" Rodney says, scrambling to catch up.

As punishment, John forces Rodney into "The Wave Surf Shop" with him, where he takes great pleasure in slowly stroking his hands over each of the boards on display, really taking his time. Rodney does a poor job of pretending he isn't staring and swallows a lot.

"So, you hungry?" asks John cheerfully when they've passed by the last of the shops.

Rodney raises an eyebrow incredulously. "Are you _kidding_? My stomach's _still_ in recovery from that roller coaster of yours earlier. I can't eat anything right now!"

John shrugs. "Okay, so..." He looks around. "How 'bout another ride?" He points his arm into the distance. "There, that one."

"'The Human _Slingshot_ '? Oh, I think not."

"Well, fine." John crosses his arms and tilts his head. "Which one do you wanna go on?"

"Something that won't make me almost throw up again would be nice. Oh, there!"

"The Ferris Wheel?" John wrinkles his nose.

"What," Rodney asks challengingly, "do you have a problem with rides without a certain minimum centripetal force? Not extreme enough for you?"

It's pretty much true, but John feels bad about forcing Rodney to go on the roller coaster that many times in a row, so he doesn't put up a fuss, just gets in line with Rodney for the Ferris Wheel.

John and Rodney flash their admission wristbands at the bubble-gum-snapping ride attendant at the top of the entry ramp, and she ushers them into one of the pink carts. John tries to sit next to Rodney on one of the two benches inside, but the attendant shakes her head at him.

"Uh uh," she says, "one person to a side."

John pouts a little and Rodney scowls, but they both settle down onto their respective benches. Rodney sets the stuffed whale down next to him, and their cart jolts upward, the next group of people boarding the ride below them.

"So," John says as they continue their slow ascent, "have you thought of a name for the whale?"

"What?" asks Rodney, glancing down at the stuffed animal in question, then looking back at John and blinking. "Why would I name a stuffed whale? Do I _look_ like a girl?"

"Well..." John drawls, and Rodney scowls and kicks him in the shin from across the cart.

They're nearing the top of the Ferris Wheel, and Rodney peers nervously over the side of their cart. "You know, uh. This is actually kind of high up."

"Why, Rodney," John is amused. "Are you afraid of heights?"

"No!" Rodney protests, but his eyes dart to the side of the cart and back again quickly, and he swallows. John feels a fond smile spreading across his face and decides not to call Rodney on the obvious lie. Rodney sees the smile and scowls. "I really hate you, you know."

The ride has finally completed the boarding, and the Ferris Wheel begins to move around smoothly. Rodney lets out a loud breath as they begin to descend.

"You don't hate me," John says, his smile getting even wider.

"Yes, I do," Rodney insists.

"No you don't." John allows the smile to transform into a smirk. "You _like_ me."

Rodney flushes. "No I don't!" he says loudly, and then under his breath adds, "Moron."

"Yeah you do," John says. "You _really_ like me." Their Ferris Wheel cart has circled around and is approaching the top again.

"I really, really don't," Rodney says hotly. "In fact, I even named your stupid whale after--" Just as they reach the top of the Ferris Wheel's trajectory, John cuts Rodney off by leaning forward and pressing their lips awkwardly together, noses bumping before he tilts his head slowly to get a better angle.

Rodney sits frozen after John pulls back, lips squished into a strange position and eyes open wide.

Suddenly feeling awkward, John presses his own lips together and then wets them with his tongue. He tries to think of something witty to say, but what comes out is a slightly stammered, "I, uh, like you too, Rodney."

The rest of the Ferris Wheel ride is spent with both John and Rodney glowing bright shades of red. They mostly stare at each other's feet, but occasionally glance up, and each time their eyes meet, they glow a little brighter and then look away. A small smile tugs at the corner of Rodney's mouth after the third time this happens.

Finally, the ride begins to slow, and then it's time for the passengers to disembark. When their car reaches the bottom, John and Rodney both get out, and John half-dashes down the exit ramp.

Rodney follows behind him, and John hears Rodney take a deep breath when he stops at the bottom of the ramp. "So," Rodney says, his voice a little high in pitch. "Ferris Wheels." John turns around to face him, and sees that Rodney is now smiling a little smugly, though there's a hint of uncertainty in his eyes.

"Yeah?" John asks.

"Well, what do you think of them now?" Rodney shifts his weight a little and adjusts his hold on the stuffed whale under his arm. John abruptly remembers Rodney's aborted comment about the whale's name, and feels curiosity seize him.

Of course, he also remembers what it was that cut Rodney's comment off.

"I dunno," John says slowly. "I think maybe I might like them. But it probably requires a little more testing first."

Rodney grins. "Yeah?" Then he attempts to school his expression into something more serious. "We'll have to be very scientific about this, you know. It's going to require a lot of repeated experiments."

And John grins back through the flush in his cheeks. "Well, what time did your parents say they wanted to meet back up with us, again?"

They have plenty of time.


End file.
